Gate: The ill-fated Imperials
by Conscripts
Summary: For some, war is full of glory and justice, but for these Imperials, this war is nothing but a massacre, a killing field that no one wants to be part of. For them, this war is an unending sequence of tragedy. And yet they have to continue to live with it. A series of one-shots about some loyal, brave, honorable but tragic Imperials who suffered from the Japanese-Empire War.
1. Chapter 1: This war within me

**Hello and welcome to my first take on a very dark side of my story telling. I am currently writing a few drama stories in my career as a fanfic writer but none of them are that tragic to say the least, so I wanted a new take on this category.**

 **This may be a bit new to you, since most fanfics here does not really delve into the concept of Imperials. I'm not criticizing them or anything, I just feel a little bit awkward when writing this. But to be honest, after watching the Gate anime, I felt pretty bad for some of the Imperials who died in battles. Some deaths are justified, deserved like the ex-soldier bandits at Italica, and I felt good to see them gone, but for some, they are just loyal soldiers who fought for their empire, for their livings and for their families. And their deaths makes me feel it was such a waste of manpower and such a terrible news for their relatives. And I can see how pointless this war is for them (Imperials mostly since their prince is a total idiotic failure). I'm not glorifying the Empire, just having a look at those poor fated individuals.**

 **Chapter preview: A diary (or a few pages of it) of an Imperial commander who have learned that war is not what it seemed to be, the hard way.**

 **Please don't be harsh on me, I'm just a casual writer eager to learn. Constructive reviews are highly appreciated**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Gate materials in this story, only the characters are mine.**

* * *

 **Summer, 687 (20xx)**

The Imperial's conquest has begun.

The emperor has issued the order. All Imperial's active soldiers, commanders, generals, citizens are to prepare for war. The empire will go on a glorious expedition beyond the realm of this world. An expedition that is promised to bring back honours, glories and riches for our vast and powerful kingdom. An expedition that will prove to the entire universe the titanic of our empire, that there is absolutely no one that could stand in our way. An expedition that will expand our discovery of the empire further and further, beyond what is called to be the final frontier of this world. A special gate will be used, a gate especially created using dark magical power from some of our finest magicians.

I found myself agreeing to the idea of an invasion of the other side of this world at a session of the Imperial Senate the other day, along with an overwhelming majority of senators there. It was a decisive victory, almost ten to one. They were all eagered to see this empire grow, expand and prosper. Surely, deaths are sure to follow, families torn apart. Alongside with it will be slavery and oppression. There will be horrors to come, but if it is the cost for our empire's expansion and wealth, we will take it. Politics and law can wait.

I was assigned as one of the co-commander of the invasion forces. As I watched my men marching through the gate, I thought of their future, to return as rich and glorious individuals, and the empire's, to last for another thousands of years. I looked into their eyes, eyes that burned with loyalty and passion for our kingdom. And I looked back to the gate, and waited, for our future to come.

* * *

 **Late-summer 687 (20xx)** (A few weeks after the Battle of Ginza)

That future didn't come.

Sixty thousands dead. Six thousands missing, presumably captured and executed. Exchanging for what? A few of them and a bunch of slaves.

Dear God…

That such a thing could happen.

What happened to those fearsome eyes that burned with passion and loyalty? All I saw were horrors and lifeless ones, extinguished. Soldiers that walked with confidence and power through that gate now return, limping, crawling, creeping with wounds and terror even worse than the depth of hellfire. Just what had become of them?

To the words of those who for some miracles able to maintain their calmness after the disastrous battle, the army on the other side of the gate used an unfathomable but extremely devastating long-ranged and rapid-firing weapon that pierced through each and every single one of our soldiers armors with relative ease. We didn't even have a chance to get close to them. Our dragons were also killed, by some sort of flying beasts, that also carried the same sort of weapon. At first, we overwhelmed them, but we were eventually pushed back and driven to the point of destruction. Only a few minorities returned to tell the tales, the unbelievable and tragic tale.

How will I explain this disaster? I'm not talking about the senators or the emperor, but to the families of those sixty thousands who perished. They all died in vain, there was no denying it.

The worse part is that the armies on the other side of that gate had come to us, to OUR world. We have provoked them, and they are here for revenge, for sure.

The emperor has made the plan. A simple but, to be honest, incredibly unwise plan. Go to Alnus Hill, where the gate is situated, with one hundred thousand soldiers and overwhelm them with sheer forces. Haven't they seen what happened to those one hundred thousands who got through that gate that now they decided to send another?! There is no way that will work! I've seen them on that hill, their weapons are beyond anything we have seen before. I'm surprised that our vassal states, Elbe, Mudwan and Alguna actually listened to these idiots.

I tried to convince them not to, but they called me a defeatist, blaming me entirely for the defeat, and dismissed me from my post. I was lucky to not be executed for it, but still, not lucky enough to stop them. Or rather, not strong-willed enough to stop them, stop them from massacring these soldiers

One hundred thousand soldiers. I quietly looked at them as I was escorted away from the hill, looked at the sacrifices some are about to make. Some were only brave men fighting for their livings and their families'. They were the only working laborer in the house, and now these families are about to be torn to shreds.

The more I thought of it, the more my heart ache. My failure to stop them isn't just what I feared. What I feared the most is that everything we have done and about to do is awaken a sleeping giant.

* * *

 **Autumn 687**

I knew that was going to happen

The Empire is dead.

The battle of Alnus Hill was again a total failure on us all. Another sixty thousand deaths tolled on the number. Cream of military and political leadership of our vassal states completely wiped out in a single day. The empire has lost almost half of our military strength that was built solidly through out centuries in just a span of a few weeks.

Such humiliation…

The most powerful empire in this world, one that is to be feared when the name is called, defeated by an unknown faction even when we outnumbered them one hundred to one.

Not only that, now some of those Imperials that survived the battle have deserted, and become bandits, robbing innocent civilians. I felt my veins rushing through my body like a charging horse at that. Those treacherous animals! What do those civilians do to deserve that?! And why do those pigs lived for this?! There are more honorable and brave men who deserved to live in their places! Just why is this happening?!

It was one of the darkest moments of my life.

After calming down, I finally pondered, about the damn fate that we were brought about. Is this one of God's punishment on us? For being too arrogant, too force-imposing and too tyrannical?

And is the Empire about to change?

Whatever the answer was, all I knew was my shattered faith on the empire's ideology and beliefs, my deadened trust on our governing elites. This world - my world- has been turned upside down.

* * *

 **Winter 687**

If this Empire is changing itself, I wish it would not have been this way.

An assassination attempt on the emperor was initiated while he was discussing peace with the Japanese, or it was called, government. My only hope of ending all this tragic stories has been shattered, only to follow by a series of nightmares. The worst of all is that the emperor's son, Zorzal, has seized the throne for himself. That worthless burden prince! If the emperor's decisions have been terribly unsounding, then this idiot's orders are completely insane and lacking of basic knowledge.

The capital was placed under a long curfew, to arrest all the pro-peace senators. He was playing his little dictator games. Thankfully, I wasn't arrested, due to the fact that they couldn't find any relations between me and them, in spite of my frequent protests and such.

That did not stop the Japanese from attacking. Not long after, the Japanese, with some unknown means of transport, sent troops flying down to our capital. They retreated afterwards, but so many men died…

After the battle, I walked along the wounded. There were injuries more severe than anything I have seen before. One had one of his legs completely severed, one had guts and intestines exposed. Doctors and nurses couldn't tend all of them, there was just too many. The worse thing was that some knew they couldn't be saved, and waited with absolute horrors of death in their eyes, the eyes that once contained so much expectation and determination for a bright future.

At one moment, I stumbled across a familiar face, a young legionaire. I recognized him immediately, he used to be my best student at the military academy. He was a young man with a beautiful pair of eyes who wanted a simple life, an ambitious person who wanted to become a military commander like me. He admired my caring personality towards my men, and vowed to do the same once he became like me. A simple but admirable dream, for some commoner like him.

But reality had failed him.

He lied on the bed, as flat as a cockroach, his breathing ragged, his face was a mixture of dirt and blood. At his torso and bottom, a large, thick piece of cloth was laid on top, stained in a round, warm, red liquid.

The soldier noticed me, and also recognized his old teacher back in the days. A small smile formed on his face. I didn't know whether it is a genuinely happy smile to meet again the teacher who we had so wonderful memories together, a sorrowful smile to conceal his sadness for failing me, or a bitter smile to the beautiful irony of this meeting.

I knelt beside him, slowly lifting the cloth covering his wound. What I saw horrified me. His left leg was amputated, his stomach was pierced through by a projectile. He winced loudly in agony and pain, his screams edged deep into my haunted memory. His eyes widened in order to help ease his unending pain to the point that I could feel it popping out of his body. It didn't really work for him.

I immediately knew it was hopeless. He probably felt the same as me, as his eyes whispered to me with lifelessness. With tears glistening, he had given up on everything, and asked me a favour, one of the hardest things for me to do: Kill him.

I hesitated on the thought. That I was going to kill my own student, the student that I once inspired, the student that I thought I would see him shine in glory and honour. Am I going to kill that dream once and for all? I looked at him, and I knew that I couldn't do that. But then he begged me, with all his remaining might, that he couldn't take it anymore, the pain, the sorrow was too much for him to bear, that it was time to move on. In that look he gave me when he pleaded, I saw no life in it, nothing remained, just a collection of the most negative of the negative feelings. It was empty, and it was spreading to me like wildfire.

The internal war inside of me broke out, between killing him or not. What a terrible dilemma God had placed on me. I could not decide, whether to put him through a quick and painful death, or leave him to die in a slow and even more painful death, and for every second I hesitated, his mental and physical pain continued to torture him, tearing his fragile body apart. I could only blame myself for being so weak-hearted.

Then finally, when I couldn't bear to see him screaming for me to end his own life like that any longer, I grabbed his sword, which was placed next to his bed, unsheathed it quickly, without a clear mind, and stabbed him, in the chest. The sound of his cracking bone cracked my mind. He coughed one last time, struggling to utter like something was lumping on his throat. Then his eyes lost his usual brightness, his organs lost all functions, leaving behind one big motionless skeletal figure.

It broke my heart.

That face, that lifeless eyes, it continued to haunt me for nights after that day. Not only couldn't I save him, but also I ended his own life. The blood in my hand, I could only pray to God for forgiveness.

* * *

 **Late-spring, 688**

One sympathetic soldier of Zorzal's army, at one point, asked me: "If you are this unwilling to participate, why didn't you defect to princess Pina's faction?"

I gladly thanked his genuinely concerning attitude towards me, but it isn't as easy as he thought.

After a certain incident concerning Zorzal and his younger sister, princess Pina, he decided to flee to Telta with all of his pro-war senators, with the blind and stupid determination of continuing this pointless war. It would have been a very good news if he hadn't have taken me with him.

"We need all the men we could get!" He replied, after I confronted him about summoning me back to service.

Being a good strategist is a merit, but also a sin. After most of his generals defecting to Pina's side, he then turned to me, promising me with all those sweet lie that I would be granted with a stack of fortune to live with for the rest of my lives, only if I cooperate and defeat the SDF's forces. I knew that would be an impossible task, the differences between their arsenal and us are like a mountain top to a bottomless pit. I may be able to outsmart them, but I cannot outgun them. The real and bitter truth is that, they are too powerful.

But that idiotic prince couldn't realize that. He vowed to resume war with Japan, and after hearing the consequences if I did not follow him, I could feel the earth below me disappear, and I was falling down to the bottom of despair.

If I defect, I will be charged of high treason, and will be executed, along with my family.

My family…

If I die, it would not be anything big, but my family…

I have a beautiful wife, and two daughters, who were just in their playful, naive and carefree time of their life. They have absolutely no relation to this war or anything.

I cannot let them suffer the fate that they do not deserve.

And so I inadvertently had to follow him.

Such an acrid situation I was put in.

The war that I once thought to be bringing everything we needed, is actually bringing all the tragedies and calamities that one could not muster enough for. And a part of that is my initial foolish belief in our empire's culture, history and ideology, that taking anything and everything we wanted by force. The Japanese were right, that would all lead to our downfall. I should have had defected if I have the chance to, taking my family along with me. But I didn't.

For some reasons, I thought of the princess. She too was an old student of mine, back when she was young, energetic with her Rose Orders of Knight. I used to be her mentor, training her with academic knowledge. Now that she has established her own legion for herself, I envied her. Because in her world right now, she could see the line between good and evil, and she had freely stepped on the good one. I saw that as well, the only thing is that I couldn't step over it. It has chained me to the ground, using those that I deared the most.

Now, I can only lean on fate, let it decide my destiny.

I don't know what it will actually be, but I can tell for sure, it will be dark.

* * *

 **Winter 688**

This may be the last time I write in this diary.

As you know it, the Empire is now engulfed in a terrible civil war, between brothers and sisters, who once lived under the same roof. And it was pretty much one-sided really. The SDF's forces are simply too strong.

The enemy initiated a counter strategy against our guerilla and scorched-earth's policy. And before we even realized it, we were pushed back to a small town surrounded by a huge forest called Mara. Behind us were cliffs, so there was nowhere to go. Initially, the villagers considered rioting against us, but as soon as they heard my name, they let us in, which was a bit of relief. We were at first determined to hold out at all costs, earning us a few minor victories, but it was not enough. Eventually, soldiers couldn't take it anymore.

I watched as my men collapsed from hunger, diseases and fatigue. There were no more food to spare, and the climate there is terrifying. Soldiers died in the shadows, their horses died beneath them, my army died…

Depressions and confusions gathered, we wanted to surrender. I wanted to surrender. It may be bitter, but I couldn't stand the sight of my men dying like this anymore. For every soldiers perished, it's like a cut of a knife slashing through my already broken heart.

But once a tragedy has occured, it will not end quietly. Zorzal's personal aid told me that if I surrender, then the conditions would be broken. That meant my family will be executed.

There's only one way to get out of this without it affecting my wife and two daughters. That is to fight until the last breathe against the superior SDF's army, like a fallen honorable warrior. That way, that prince would not see me as a traitor, and leave my family alone.

So this is probably the end, my end. If this is my destiny, I will take it, for the sake of my family, and my soldiers somewhere else. The only thing that I regret now are the lives of these men that I am about to end. Some are brave, and loyal to the empire, and I can say they truly deserve a more peaceful and haven life than this.

But that is the part of the tragedy of war.

It may be thought to be full of glory, justice and fun, but that is until they have seen losses, fathers burying their sons, wives crying for their husbands, brothers and sisters torn apart, friendships shattered, lives lost, deads forgotten.

War is not a joke, and is a result of human's failure at communication

I have thought of that ever since the battle of Alnus, but I knew one thing: This might happen to anyone.

War will always kill us for no good reasons...

* * *

 **References**

 **"War will always kill us for no good reasons." A reference to Ernest Hemingway**


	2. Chapter 2: The son of Hercules

**Welcome to chapter 2 of this dark fic.**

 **So this is rather short, comparing to the first one. Well this is pretty much a sudden idea surging through my mind while I am writing a longer chapter for this fic (which will come in later). I was looking for a few stories about war so that I can have some inspirations and ideas to continue that chapter, and then I found the trailer 'Super Dad' for the expansion pack 'The Little Ones' of the game 'This War of Mine'. And I loved it, for how it conveys the horrors of war. So I decided to take the idea and make it into a full chapter instead. This is done in just a few hours, so the quality may be pretty bad comparing to the first chapter, so please forgive me.**

 **Chapter preview: A captain (or someone in charge of a battalion, depending on how you see it) reflects on everything he have done for the survival of himself and his family, and his son's impression of him.**

* * *

Let me tell you a story. A great story.

It's about my father.

He is the greatest war hero that Falmart has ever had.

He is the son of my grandfather, all by blood, but some people say he isn't. They say that he is the son of Hercules instead. My father is really, really strong! He can lift a rock that is as twice as large as him! No arrows or swords can pierce through him! He is the god of victory for all the citizens of Falmart, a death sign for his enemies, and a haunting nightmare for those who managed to survive to tell the tales. Bad guys simply don't stand a chance.

Last year, a group of evil men wearing green uniforms invaded Falmart, killing and robbing many innocent civilians. Our government sent troops to kill them, but can't. They were really strong! They killed all our troops without effort and mercy. But my father wasn't hurt. He got superpower. He stood still on the battlefield and killed them one by one. Their powerful weapons meant nothing to him. Last week, he commanded our troops and defeated them at their lair at Italica! But his work here is not done yet. The evil green men are still being stubborn. Someone has to take care of them.

* * *

 **Spring 688**

Today I was allowed to return home to see my son. The sight of him playing cheerfully really relieved me. And the fact that he ran towards me and hugged me tightly really melted me, lifting all the stress on my shoulder. He told me all kinds of stories, how everybody here sees me as a great hero, a savior, and a son of god. And he told me how proud he was to be my child, by blood.

Damn, I envy you.

I'd wish you hadn't said that. Now I am more and more afraid about disappointing you.

You see, I am not the one being described as. Hero, savior, son of god? Yeah right. A hero that went out to plunder and massacre a whole village full of innocent villagers only because they refuse to comply with prince Zorzal's scorched earth policy. A savior that sent thousands of soldiers to their horrible deaths. A son of god who failed to win even one single battle against an army dozens of times smaller then his. I bet Hercules would be ashamed of what his son is doing.

I am no hero. There is nothing justifiable in what I have done. All I have committed is causing tragedies and terrors to the people. They only said that because they have not seen what I have seen. Here, people think I am a god, a person who deserves all the worships I can get, but elsewhere faraway, they loathe at me, wishing that I would just burn in hell already. Those that I have hurted, with my own hands.

I hated them. I wished they could just stop lionizing me. I don't want to disappoint them. I don't want to act like someone that I cannot ever become.

But my son.

I can't bring myself to hate him, like how I did with those ignorant people.

He was smiling so cheerfully when he boasted about me. That naive, happy and proud smile. I am so jealous. Jealous at his ignorance that I always hated.

Because in his world right now, there is only good and evil…black and white. You know what is right and wrong, who is good and evil.

While mine…

Mine is made up of all kinds of shades. There's no sign to tell you the right way.

For my own survival, I have thrown my men ahead of me on the battlefield, sending them into the pit of doom. I know that is morally wrong, but what else can you do. If you don't do it, then your ruthless prince would throw you to his sword.

I have no choice.

I'm sorry, my son. For not being the person you always dreamt me of being.

I'm sorry, my men. For selfishly sending you to die a death that you all do not deserve.

I'm sorry, everyone. For doing all the acts that I can never ever redeem or forgive myself for. There is absolutely no excuses for my actions except for the one bitter fact that I have changed into an immorally degrading person.

Now that it has come to this point, I can only hope a one small thing that everybody else in Falmart are hoping for: Peace.

I'm tired of all the killings I have seen, the deaths I have mourned, the tragedies I have witnessed, and the hell I have been through. War is such a delusional thing people wage on others. I've thought of it to be glorious, and that I could bring honour to my ancestors. But it turns out to be a fight of survival, even among our own allies, a house of misfortune and tragedies. There is absolutely nothing that I have been seeking for. Nothing…

I will have to return to the battlefield once my break is over. Back to the flames and bloods. The JSDF is heading towards Mare, we are to be there to stop them.

Just how longer must I endure this. I feel terrible. For how I am about to send another hundreds of men to their demise. But for your own survival, and the lives of my family, you will have to trust your guts, and pray to God for forgiveness to all what you have done and about to do.

Whatever that means now…

* * *

 **The title is a bit misleading. But I couldn't think of anything more interesting than that**


	3. Chapter 3: Papa

**Welcome to chapter 3 of this fic.**

 **I know. I'm sorry for disappearing for the whole half year, but that was probably the busiest time of my life, as I was moving to a different country. So I really apologize if anyone is expecting more chapters to come. But now I am back and have a bunch of ideas ready to be put into words.**

 **Honestly, I really appreciate all the kind reviews and encouragement many of you are sending me. I love it when people find my work enjoyable to them, and that was probably the best thing that I, as a writer, ever want. And I will be working to write more emotional stories from many different perspective for you to enjoy.** **This chapter is heavily inspired by a Vietnamese short story called 'The Tusked Comb'. I read this story a long time ago, but still got me every time.**

 **So anyway, here's the long awaited chapter 3, and I hope you guys enjoy it.**

 **Chapter preview: A soldier taking an absence leave with his best friend to visit his daughter. What can go wrong?**

* * *

Tonight is truly a beautiful night, one that I have never seen before in my life. Surely there has been some other nights like this, but for some reasons I never bothered to look up at it. Now that the dull monotony of a lonely journey on my beloved horse has worn me down, the boredom intensifies. I should have got a lift on the SDF's…thing when they departed on their mission to the capital. I don't know what it's called, but they have four wheels and is very thick. We fought against some of these back in the days and I can say it is like a ground dragon, only without the flames. Their ride go pass my destination, but because I was only 5 MINUTES late, I missed it. And so I have to take my horse instead. It would take 3 days to get there, while on that 'thing', it would only take only one. It was enough to reflect on my night owl lifestyle, but luckily, countess Myui of Italica was kind enough to provide me with enough food for the trip. Now I look nothing different from a lone white knight, aside from the fact that I am not that heroic, nor I look so.

But to be honest, I dearly want a companion, to laugh with and at each other during these times.

I look to my right as my white horse continues to trot peacefully. There is no one there, but sometimes I feel like there is. A young man, with scars stitching all over the half left of his face, on a brown horse, holstering a black bow and a bunch of arrows. That's what I usually see. You can blame that to my insanity, I don't mind, but that horse, that silhouette, and that scarred face, I can never forget it.

I reach for my small pouch tied neatly on the back of my horse, and took out a beautiful artistically made stone crescent amulet that is tied to a long string like a necklace. The string is a little bit short for an adult size. That is because the maker of this intended to give it to his young, now eleven years old, daughter when the war is over. If only he is holding this now instead of me.

* * *

It has been 2 years since, but everytime I remember, the feelings just rush to me as if it just happened moments ago. But before I get to that, I will have to go back a little bit further, and talk a small bit about myself. I was born a total commoner, in a family with the traditions of being slaves, bowing their heads to their masters. But soon after my birth, an accident occured, and I turned from a normal kid to an orphan in just one night. I was 13 years old when that happened, and was the only child in the house, so my master inevitably became my guardian. Guardian my ass, he was a total jerk. I hated that asshole. Because he didn't want to take care of me, he handed me to a mining camp far away from the capital without a single thought. I served there for 14 long years before getting conscripted into the Imperial army for a war against a bunny tribe. The experience at the camp was simply horrifying, as we were forced to work for 20 hours a day, only 4 hours for other activities like eating and sleeping. Many died due to either exhaustion or getting caught and killed for desertion. But thankfully, my natural born giant physique had kept me in check, and I won over everything that hellhole threw at me.

One day, I met Albus, a cavalry officer in the Imperial army visited the mining camp during an excursion. After witnessing my great human strength, he immediately took me in under his wing, and so my life as a miner ended there.

Albus and I soon became great friends. He, with a typical laid back personality, is recognized mainly through the terrible burn scar that covered half of his face, who simply worked because that is what kept him living. His free time was spent almost entirely on staring at beautiful girls, either slaves or just civilians. And, surprisingly, he had a wife and a nine years old daughter!

It would make anyone wonder why a woman chose such a playful guy like him as a husband. I was the same, for a while, but then I knew that despite his unimpressive exterior, he was a simple guy with a heart of gold. All his acts were only limited to looking, he never betrayed his own wife to go flirt with others. Furthermore, he used all his grit and strength to help others, regardless of their social status. That earned the respect of many, me included.

We were close, very close. Everytime either of us had any bad days, we always shared it with each other. And in every battle, we supported each other, covering each other from arrows and blades. We're like two pillars, one relying on the other and vice versa. So close that some of the soldiers there started to fantasize myths about us together, but that is a story for another day.

In one occasion, he invited me back to his house at the countryside and had a stay there with him for 3 days, since there was a break for all of our regiment. He knew I didn't have a family, that for long I hadn't experienced such love, so he wanted to share it, at least for a bit, the feeling that I had missed for nearly 20 years. I was touched to the heart at that, and accepted without any hesitation.

We travelled on horseback, 50 kilometers a day. It took 2 days to go from our post to his house, but I could already see him bouncing with joy at the thought of meeting his beloved daughter again. I could hear him hum and sing from time to time, which I couldn't help but smile in return. At how wonderful a father he was.

Then, after 2 days of travelling, a house came into view, a nice little country house with a large frontyard, planted with all kinds of trees, one that I would be buying once the war is over. Under the huge shades made by the trees, a tiny figure could be seen hopping and crouching from time to time. She appeared a very little girl, with short black hair. I could not figure any further details since I was far away, but I knew, he knew, we both knew, that she was the daughter of my greatest friend ever.

As if something snapped within Albus, he suddenly slashed his horse rein, enabling the horse to go into a full gallop, sending dusts flying into my eyes. I could only hear him shout.

"Livia! My sweetheart!"

He was shouting to the tiny figure. And before I realized it, he was already there, dismounting his horse hastily, and rushed to her, only stopping when he was only a few meters ahead of the girl.

"Livia…Is that really you?"

He called out again, his two hands reaching out for her. I couldn't see very clearly his own face when he did so, but I bet he was very happy and was expecting his daughter to recognize him, so that the father daughter can have a teary-eyed reunion together, hugging and kissing each other. Anyone would have thought of that scenario playing in front of them if they were here.

But it didn't happen…

She merely stood there, tilting her head as her unbeknownst-to-her father tried to call for her. And then, unexpectedly…

"Mama! Mama! Help me!"

She ran away…

In front of the person who loved her the most.

Both of us were taken by complete surprise. I was puzzled, confused and shocked. I didn't know how such a thing could happen. Albus must have felt the same, but most likely more suspensefully. No doubt. Her precious daughter did not recognize him.

I slowly approached him on my horse and slowly dismounted. Poor guy. He was frozen on spot for the entire time. His hands, that were once ready to welcome Livia in him, ready to squeeze her flesh into him, were hanging low. There were no strength in them, as if they were broken. His eyes still peered in the direction his daughter had run.

When I approached him, his only response was to laugh. Yes, laugh…I could perceive. The shock must have been too great on him that he simply could not cry. If he couldn't cry, he had no choice but to laugh. Laugh to shake all those pains away.

His wife soon came out, with Livia hiding behind her legs, looking at her father with hostility. Fortunately, his wife, Natalie, was able to recognize him immediately, as they shared a brief hug and kiss. This seemed to even caused more confusion in the child, as I watched her run into the house in fear. That was when I knew that visit would not end very well for all of us.

His wife, Natalie, welcomed me with all her heart the moment Albus introduced me as his best friend. For the first time since many years, I had experienced this little cozy feeling of being with the one you platonically loved. It was good, just watching the couple chatting with each other, and sometimes inviting me into their conversation. I felt like home. And the food was more or less fantastic. Honestly, I felt so envious of Albus for having such a good wife. However, there was still one thing that derived us of the fun.

Who else…

"Livia. Why didn't you eat your food?"

Her father said, gently and kindly. But she did not respond.

"Come on, the food is cold."

Albus repeated his urge, as he placed a piece of fish onto her plate. Livia did not respond for a while, and when she did, she merely stood up and left the room.

"Livia!" Natalie was furious at her daughter's behavior, as she tried to stop her from leaving. She stopped at the entrance, and replied bluntly and impolitely.

"I'm not hungry."

And she left.

Things did not improve over the night. Albus was a stubborn guy, as he tried to get her to actually said Papa to him. But it didn't work out obviously. Like father like daughter, every attempts he made to approach her, she shoved him away, as if he was some sort of enemies. And she did not utter a single word to him.

The next day, it was the same. Having grown tired of it, Albus merely sat down in the kitchen, as Livia was busy tending the fire nearby. It was at that moment when Natalie's voice could be heard from the outside.

"Livia honey! The water is boiling! Tell Papa to extract the water, or it'll spilt!"

But for a while, Livia did not do anything. Her head sprang back and forth trying to come up with something. It was obvious that she was trying not to call her father…her father. But as the water was about to spill, she didn't have many choices. I watched her struggling to come up with an answer when she simply yelled to Albus, again with her bluntness and rudeness.

"Extract the water!"

To be honest, if my daughter shouted to me like this, I would slap her in the face immediately. Albus did not do anything, as he sat on the chair, pretending that he did not hear it.

"Hurry! Or it will spill!"

Again, he did nothing.

I was trying hard to keep my patience, and I didn't want to create a bad impression to my friend's family, so I simply said to her.

"Livia. You have to say 'Papa, can you extract the water for me?'. How hard is it to actually say the word Papa to your father here."

She was silent for a while, again, trying to come up with a solution. At first, I thought that she was finally going to give up and actually called Papa for him to help, but no. Livia silently grabbed a chair nearby, sat down on it and hastily extended the handle of the spoon she was going to use for extraction, since she was a bit too short for the cooker, by simply tying a wooden stick to the handle using some straws. And then she used the chair to lift herself up to the cooker's level. Then she slowly extracted the water by herself, albeit clumsily.

Albus laughed again, the bitterness returned. Damn, that girl surely was cunning.

I could see it on his face. For the whole two days, his daughter had been treating him like trash, something that was pretty outrageous for a kid this age to their parents. No, not this age, but any age in general. Natalie had to shout so many times that she was also at her limits. And I could see it on Albus's face as well. His patience was being driven to his limit.

That dinner, he tried to approach his daughter again. He noticed she wasn't even touching the food, so he simply took her bowl and her spoon, grabbed a spoonful and gently hovered near her.

"Come on Livia. You gotta eat."

It was then that she crossed the line. She was so frustrated that she hit the spoon with an upward hand swipe, sending the soup on the spoon flying everywhere, onto me, and onto Albus's face, and his scars.

SLAP!

And he finally snapped…

"You stubborn brat!"

The atmosphere was extremely tense. I could feel it in the air. Albus had never reacted like this ever since I met him. He was always calm, composed and patient towards everyone that I could barely imagine him actually getting angry. In Livia's part, I had expected her to make a mess out of this, maybe flip the whole table over and cried out, like many kids would do. But once again, she did not do what I expected her to do. Like the first night, she got up and left. However, she did not go into her room this time, but she left the house altogether, on a horse of her own it seemed.

I was a bit shocked to learn that, but Natalie explained that she was heading for for her grandmother's house. Whenever she got scolded and so on, she would go there for some consolation. That placed me at ease a bit, but still.

Poor Albus. This was his only time in, maybe perhaps, two years or so that he was able to return home to their family on a break like this. And it was only for a few days. And yet her daughter did not recognize him as her father. It was probably the saddest thing a father could experience. I didn't even know why she was so stubborn with it. I mean, Natalie and I all insisted that the man was her father, yet why?

* * *

The day after that dinner, it was already farewell time. It was time that people gathered around the house for a huge meal, to say their wishes to both of us, Albus mostly, since they were all his relatives. It was busy time, with people kept bugging around him, asking him questions, talking to him or saying their long wishes and goodbyes to him. While he was paying attention to the guests, I paid my attention to Livia instead.

The girl was standing by the door nearby, her back lay resting against the frame, her hands crossed in front of her torso, with the occasional long sigh, as she stared further into the distance. For a moment, I almost couldn't recognize her as a nine year old child. She looked and acted no different from a mature adult at the time. And I wondered if Albus's slap last night was making her this way.

Attention was again drawn to Albus and I again, even Livia's, as we both began to leave the house and headed out to the horses. I noticed Livia looking at Albus all the time. That was weird, just two days ago, she barely even bothered to look at him, and now she was staring at him non-stop, with her deep and seemingly endless eyes.

I mounted my horse, and waited for Albus to mount his. But he didn't do so immediately. At this time, he was the Albus that I always knew: calm, collected, kind and patient. He turned to look at Livia, his precious stubborn daughter, for a long time, before cracking a small and forgiving smile.

"Honey, Papa's leaving." He said, loud enough for her to hear.

Then, he turned away. Each of his steps felt so heavy and painful.

He probably wanted to hug her and kiss her one last time, but he also didn't want her to wreck things again. So he just left it at that.

At first, I thought that was it. That was the end of the visit. It was fun, but somewhat quite depressing. But so strangely, as if some images ran inside her mind, as if some well-suppressed emotions finally bursted, at the time nobody would expect her to be, she screamed on the top of her lungs

"Papa...Papa...Papa!"

Her scream pierced the silence of the atmosphere. It painfully sliced into our hearts. It felt so tragic, so pale.

That "Papa". Those were the words she buried deep in her sorrowful heart. As if it was suppressed so tightly within her and then suddenly bursting out all of a sudden, she dashed from the door frame. Tears were seen exiting her eyes, as she shoved everybody in her path. In that moment, it was as if nothing could stand in her way. Her beloved Papa was there in front of her.

"Papa! Papa!"

Livia rushed to him quickly, climbed him, as her two arms lashed onto his neck. Her two legs grinded onto his torso. She hugged him tightly. Her nails plugged deeply into his skins. It hurt, but Albus didn't mind it. Her voice was barely audible, soaked in her tears.

"Papa! You have to stay home with me! You have to!"

The girl was surprisingly strong, as she was willing to never let her father out of sight again.

"Livia...Why didn't you say Papa earlier?" The now teary-eyed Albus asked, as he returned her hugs

"Because...Because..." She said, still teary. "...Grandma..."

* * *

 _"Why didn't you recognize your father, Livia?" The old woman asked, her voice slow but kind_

 _"Because that man is not my father." Livia replied._

 _"Why not?"_

 _"He doesn't look anything like you said."_

 _"Ah...no wonder..." She nodded, her movement quite rusty. "...then let me tell you a story. It's about your Papa...and his heroic rescue..."_

 _"My Papa saved someone?" The girl asked, her eyes round._

 _"Mhhmm...at the time, there were a bunch of green men who came for an invasion..." The old woman sighed. "Your Papa was sent to deal with them, at Alnus...but his men were soon killed_

 _Her voice suddenly turned hostile, though not towards her young Livia._

 _"Those barbaric monsters...they casted dark magic on your Papa..." She said. "Everyone was torn, blasted into pieces in seconds..."_

 _"Your Papa saw a man with his legs off...so he came to his side...trying to drag him to safety...that was when..."_

 _"That was when?" Livia asked curiously_

 _"He was hit...by the dark magic. His face burned until it was blackened..." The old woman looked down, looking teary as well. "...the scars on his face still retained the horrors of that day..."_

 _Livia was silent._

 _"Poor boy...not only he couldn't save the poor soul, he also suffered such a fate..."_

* * *

"Livia, honey..." Albus hugged his daughter even tighter.

So that was it...

The girl couldn't recognize her father simply because of the scars on his face. The scar that should have been hailed, for everything he had done. For his patriotic service to the empire. And yet...

Livia was still unwilling to let go. She began kissing him. Kissing his right cheek, his forehead, and even the scar that she herself used to be so afraid of.

Suddenly, I could sense something welling up in me. My cheeks were wet. Droplets of water began streaming across my cheeks.

I was crying...

For the poor fate of these two innocent souls. Torn apart because of this war.

The kind father, who had never seen the face of his child for six years, spending his short days at home trying to get her to recognize him

The troublesome but kind and lovely daughter, who stubbornly but desperately tried to defend the image of the father she always knew and loved.

And when they were finally each other, they had to be separated, once again.

"Livia." Natalie, who was also struggling to keep the tears from flowing. "Let your Papa go. He will be back soon."

"No! I don't want Papa to go! He has to stay here with me!"

"Livia..."

"He has a job to do. Livia please..."

She still refused.

I could understand why. Perfectly.

"Hey, honey."

Albus's kind voice finally rang out.

"Didn't grandma tell you about Papa? Then wouldn't you be proud that I am working to save other people's lives.

"..."

"If you let go, I will bring home more stories for you to be proud of..."

Livia was deep in thoughts, before finally answering.

"Only if you give me something in return..."

Only that would she finally let him go.

I could feel my heart being strangled, as the young girl slowly descended back to the ground. It was a hard feeling. I was about to suggest that he should stay with her for a few more days, but halted before I could voice it. He only had a few days of absense. An unnotified extension would easily result in him being expelled, or even being hunted down and executed. The Empire was no joke. Especially for lower class people like the two of us. Those noblemen had almost no sympathy for us. One defiance of their orders, and we're through.

So it was it for us. We had to go...

* * *

 **The conclusion to the story will come in later chapters**


End file.
